


The Entropy of Kim Hongjoong

by Bazzys



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bittersweet, Bottom Kim Hongjoong, Fluff and Smut, Gang Member!Jongho, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Summer Romance, Top Choi Jongho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:20:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22876831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bazzys/pseuds/Bazzys
Summary: "Entropy/ˈɛntrəpi/noun1.  lack of order or predictability; gradual decline into disorder."orThe story in which Hongjoong is every Fall Out Boy song personified
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kim Hongjoong
Comments: 27
Kudos: 106





	The Entropy of Kim Hongjoong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aerClassic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerClassic/gifts).

> this was something my mind just immediately threw at me after i saw some edits of ripped jjong and joong in leather jackets, so thanks for enabling me Ash ;-;
> 
> anyways, enjoy!!

_Caramel and cigarettes._

That’s what Jongho remembers. The sweet and the bitter, mixed together and enveloping him in something warm and familiar; something that’s so scarily appealing in the most dangerous way, and all the more addictive when molded together. 

A risky combination, and one that can only be _you_. 

The flame of Jongho’s lighter flickers on with a spark, illuminating his face in a soft glow as the fire catches on the end of his Lucky Strike. He takes a deep drag where he watches he sun starting to hang low on the sky and leans his weight heavier against the bike behind him, allowing the sound of waves to lull his mind and the tinge of salt in the air take him back to last summer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Should he be completely honest, Jongho didn’t know where he had stopped, or where he was supposed to run to. All he really knew as he pulled up into a run down motel in the outskirts of a tiny town after being guided by a blinking neon sign for the past mile and a half, was what he was running _from_. 

Jongho grew up in a chain of unfortunate events of finding himself in the wrong place at the wrong time and with insufficient luck in his back pocket. He quickly learned the hard way that trailer park kids were to be avoided at all cost, and that clothes apparently was a symbol of status. Divorced parents left him seeking for something permanent, which his father had been oh so kind to gift him with on his 16th birthday in the form of a shiny set of keys belonging to a brand new bike with an alluring promise of ‘forever’. 

_“Hey, hot wheels,” a voice whisper-yelled and startling Jongho, but despite turning both ways there was no one there. “Up here,” the voice chuckled._

_Jongho looked up along the wall of the motel. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the dark, gradually recognising the shape of a white smile directed back down at him. _

_“Come on up, I won’t bite,” the voice urged, smile disappearing in favour of crunching noises._

_Jongho’s looks had a tendency to put people on edge or right out scare them. Standing there, clad in all black and covered in ink and dusty sweat, the last thing he expected was to be invited into conversation and someone’s space this easily. _

_Jongho cocked his head to the side, smirk playing on his lips. “Somehow I find it hard to trust you on that,” he replied, arms crossed over his chest. _

_The stranger chuckled and disappeared back over the edge of the roof tiles with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Suit yourself.”_

_Growing accustomed to the lack of light, he caught the unknown rolling their eyes at his words, but missed the tiny object flying straight into his hair. Jongho yelped and shook his head vigorously to get it back out. He weighed his hesitation for another moment before climbing up by the gutter. Pulling himself onto the roof tiles, he came face to face with a man somewhere around his own age, with sharp features set in a soft smile._

_“Caramel popcorn?” he offered, snack bag held out with a wide grin and a mischievous glint in his eye._

_You_. Hongjoong, Jongho quickly learned, as he did with pretty much everything else about him. He didn’t dwindle or twist thumbs, always struggling to sit still for more than ten seconds. Jongho once joked about him being the embodiment of restlessness, and earned himself a snort and a punch to the arm.

Hongjoong was blunt, direct in his words and clear of their meaning. He didn't avoid problems, quite on the contrary he seemed to seek out conflict. Rebelling against society, authorities, parents and life itself, he passionately told Jongho about everything wrong with the world, and excitedly explained the meanings of his painted pinky, the pins on his jackets or the rings he wore.

This extreme devotion of his is what drew Jongho in closer, every little piece of knowledge he acquired giving him a craving to learn more. Hongjoong was animated, attentive, _real_, and Jongho found himself plunging into unknown territory of butterflies and clammy hands before three whole days had passed. They clicked straight off the bat, in a sense that words were too shallow to even attempt at explaining. Hongjoong felt comfortable in a way Jongho had never experienced until then, a vibrant warmth in the form of a human whirlwind.

Hongjoong was _exciting_.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jongho’s cigarette burns down. He lights another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And maybe it wasn't so shocking, then, how sharing cigarettes and passing the smoke back and forth ended with Hongjoong in Jongho's lap on the worn couch in his motel room the fourth night. Jongho's mind swam with Hongjoong, drowning in the sensations of his hands tangled into his hair and the smooth glide of Hongjoong's tongue against his own. Jongho rolled them over, the rush of adrenaline coursing through his body daring him to set himself free, to let his own desires overshadow everything but the taste of caramel popcorn and Lucky Strike on Hongjoong's tongue.

Hongjoong knew what he wanted, and he was never afraid to ask for it, something Jongho desperately needed at the time. Jongho was stuck, frustrated about his present and anxious for his future, struggling to break out of the lifestyle he didn't ask for. He knew that the ‘forever’ his father lured him into was indeed permanent in the worst sense, but he was done with the crimes, the violence, the drugs; he never found his place among the thieves surrounding him and wanted nothing more to do with it all. He craved for a fresh start to set his life straight, to make the choices that had been robbed from him years ago in his youth.

Hongjoong's bold personality brought with it a constant uncertainty of what to expect, continuously surprising Jongho in new ways and helping him forget about every ‘maybe’ and ‘what if’ that would be awaiting him. His attentiveness allowed him to read Jongho like an open book, sensing when he became trapped in his own head the instant his mind darkened and expertly yanking him back out from the shadows. Jongho felt vulnerable in Hongjoong's hold, as if he knew Jongho's thoughts like the back of his own hand. He felt vulnerable, but never weak; no, Hongjoong was the only safe thing in Jongho's life.

Yet Jongho still couldn't bring himself to hope.

Because despite living as if the hours passed like minutes, Hongjoong appeared to be patiently counting down the days. For what, Jongho didn’t know.

Jongho didn't bring it up, and neither did Hongjoong. They lived in a mutual, silent agreement of ‘here and now’, keeping track of naught but the rise and fall of the sun and the rhythmic beats of each other's hearts. They ignored road signs and place names, the markings on the road showing them how to get to wherever. Hongjoong would cling close to his back on the motorcycle, not caring for the suffocating heat as his arms slung around Jongho's sturdy waist and his chin rested on Jongho’s shoulder. Jongho would cast a glance at him, see Hongjoong enjoy the cooling wind with his eyes closed and lips slightly parted before cracking a smile at being caught.

When Hongjoong begun nipping at his neck, Jongho placed a hand over Hongjoong's thigh and squeezed, rubbing circles at the exposed skin through the rips in his jeans. They'd pull over and Hongjoong, never less eager to unnecessarily waste time, would slip around to the front to envelop Jongho once more, the void landscapes the only witness to the promises painted on skin in reds and blues.

The summer would eventually lose it's last remaining touch of spring, resulting in unbearably warmer temperatures and even less wind. They frequented the ice cream booth, Hongjoong picking out the weirdest combinations of flavours while Jongho paid. They sat in the back, directly under the aircondition, and Hongjoong would wait for Jongho's reaction to pineapple and chocolate or coffee and banana. He'd observe fondly, or switch with him if Jongho pulled a face, but would always giggle regardless.

Jongho found that endearing.

_"You're ruining my image, hyung, making me a softie."_

_"Funny how you're always hard around me, then," Hongjoong said, leaning into Jongho to lick his hand clean and then moved further down, the sultry look in his eyes granting Jongho the relief of a quick orgasm down Hongjoong's throat to spare them the shame of being caught in public._

Hongjoong's rebellions against the world were especially loud when nature was at its strongest. He refused to let mother nature have it as she saw fit, challenging her with fierce defiance and bravery comparable to none, his competitiveness combined with his hatred for being on the losing end sometimes even bordering insanity.

As the temperatures got better again, the weather took a turn for the worse. The first proper summer storm came around, and after five hours of sitting hunched over paint and a denim jacket just listening to the rain pound against the roof, Hongjoong decided it was time to protest. Jongho was surprised it actually took him that long in the first place before getting to his feet, flinging the door open and marching out without putting on his shoes or a jacket. 

Jongho got up from the bed to observe Hongjoong’s shenanigans. Arms crossed, he leaned against the doorframe as Hongjoong spread his arms out wide and spun in circles. A smile cracked his face open, and Jongho couldn’t help it dig into his own cheeks when Hongjoong stopped and stood still with his face to the sky, welcoming the rain head on. He stood like that for almost a minute, just felt the summer rain seep into his clothes and run down his skin. 

And as if Hongjoong really did have a telepathic connection with him, he reached out like he knew Jongho was watching without even seeing to drag him by the wrist through the open door for another round against the elements. 

Hongjoong only smirked mischievously at Jongho’s futile complains about getting wet, mumbling a ‘not yet’ and tugging harder at his arm until they were out in the open. The rain splashed at Jongho’s face in huge drops, soaking through his white tee in a matter of seconds. Hongjoong let go of Jongho’s hand to climb onto the roof of someone’s car, staring out over the open landscape surrounding them. He cupped his hands in front of his mouth and took a deep breath, letting it all out in the loudest scream Jongho has ever heard from him. The curse was swallowed by a colossal roll of thunder, nature’s own ‘fuck you’ back at Hongjoong.

When Jongho’s eyes met Hongjoong’s in that moment, his chest heaving and wearing the widest smile of the summer, he was glowing with happiness. Jongho’s heart skipped a beat or three, only capable of staring at Hongjoong radiating with pride and adrenaline, his eyes shining behind his dripping wet bangs, and it was in that moment Jongho knew that whatever it was they had was real.

Hongjoong jumped down straight into a puddle, his chuckle giving away the intention of deliberately splashing water onto Jongho. Under normal circumstances he’d be pissed, possibly even curse Hongjoong out or threaten to wear his still unfinished denim jacket outside in the storm, but he was already drenched long before the additional dose and saw no use in anger.

That, and the teasing grin on Hongjoong’s face implied he had other plans for the two of them. 

_Okay, I’ll bite._

Jongho chased after Hongjoong through the rain, barely missing each time he lunged. Hongjoong giggled the entire time, getting caught on purpose in the end to slump against him with his arms around Jongho’s neck. Jongho held onto Hongjoong’s hips to pull him in closer, close enough to feel their fronts brush occasionally. The giggles faded as Jongho nuzzled underneath Hongjoong’s ear, making him shiver despite the warm rain. They started swaying from side to side, inching closer for each step and holding onto each other tight as if afraid that any air between them would push them apart. 

Hongjoong’s breath was hot against Jongho’s skin, fingers tangling into the wet locks at his neck. He pressed his lips against Hongjoong’s jawline, Hongjoong yielding pliantly to give him more space. He kissed lower, down the side of Hongjoong’s neck, his arms dipping around Hongjoong’s back to keep them both grounded. 

It only took one little bite to the vein running the length of Hongjoong’s throat for him to break. He whimpered, a needy little sound Jongho knew so well by now it was almost pavlovian. Jongho didn’t give Hongjoong any time to compose himself, moulding their mouths together the second he straightened his head back up and surprising him by pushing past his lips hungrily. 

Hongjoong was usually the one to take control, but the way he turned to jelly in Jongho’s arms lit his insides on fire and made his skin prickle with enough heat for the warm rain to feel cold. They made out in the rain until it subsided to a gentle drizzle. They parted, lips swollen and tingling and Jongho shivered from the chill creeping into his bones and from how Hongjoong creeped into his heart.

_“How about a shower and then take me to bed?” Hongjoong whispered against his lips._

_“No promises I’ll do it in that order,” Jongho responded, wrapped Hongjoong’s legs around his waist and carried him inside, slamming the door shut with his foot while Hongjoong held his face and giggled into another kiss._

Hongjoong’s little fights tended to be rather innocent and harmless, at least for the most part. Others were... more elaborate, so to speak. Jongho had pulled over by the shore one evening to take a much needed leak, turning back to see Hongjoong half naked and in the air, disappearing from sight with a scream. Jongho panicked and sprinted over to the edge of a cliff easily four times a human’s height, barely noticing the uneven circle Hongjoong’s tumbling body had created in the sea below. 

Jongho’s heart was racing and sinking and freezing over all at once, his instincts conflicted about whether he should get help or if he should jump down for Hongjoong himself. He shifted his weight anxiously, the seconds ticking by inexplicably slow, until Hongjoong breached the surface with a loud gasp.

_“Hongjoong! Are you alright?” Jongho shouted down, breathing heavy._

_Hongjoong laughed. “She can bring it on! Now come join me defy her!” he answered. Perhaps he sensed Jongho’s slight hesitation even at this distance, because he quickly added a playful, “Ah, cramp!”_

_Jongho shook his head and released an amused sigh. “You better not be lying or I’ll drown you myself,” he chuckled, pulling off his own clothes to dive in._

_Hongjoong threw his arms around Jongho’s neck as soon as he resurfaced, kicking with his legs to not weigh him down and smashing their lips together with want. Jongho was confused at this sudden yearning need of Hongjoong’s, barely able to gasp in less than a lungful of air before Hongjoong’s tongue was halfway down his throat the way that made his toes curl. The lack of breath didn’t stop him from kissing Hongjoong back with all he could, tucking his smaller body close to his own. _

_“I love you, Choi Jongho,” Hongjoong groaned into Jongho’s mouth when his hands started to wander._

_Jongho pulled away to look into his eyes, searching for humour or lies or a hint of untruth, anything that would confirm his doubts of his own worth or drown out the frightening possibility of gaining hope threatening to churn in his stomach; and finding nothing but sincerity and adoration._

_“I love you and if you don’t mind, I’d like to suck you off once we get to shore.”_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cigarette in Jongho’s hand is easily forgotten over the vivid memories of Hongjoong, the column of ash a sole indication of what it once used to be. He knocks his finger against it, stray embers flickering until they snuff out in the breeze, long before reaching the ground. He takes a final drag, then watches how the butt tumbles from his fingers, landing onto the gravel beneath in a tiny flare of sparks. The smoke sifts out between his lips slowly, as if he has all the time in the world. He wishes he did.

The descending sun colours the skies in reds and yellows, the horizon pulling it closer like a magnet. Jongho sees the sun fighting back, not letting itself be tugged down completely all at once, but it’s strength is waning where it leans faster against the line of the sea. There’s still time. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A clear majority of the hours they spent together went to questioning the powers of existence itself, a constant friction of Hongjoong desperately trying to break free from Earth’s claim on him in a clash of extremes; only kin to those of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. 

But out of all these loud and wild moments with Hongjoong, however, Jongho’s favourites were their quiet ones: their mornings. These short minutes of the day somehow lasted the longest; when Hongjoong would wake Jongho with light kisses to the apples of his cheeks or the tip of his nose, or when Jongho would push a few stray strands of Hongjoong’s hair out his eyes and let his thumb linger along the curve of Hongjoong’s lips. Each time, the other would stir with a smile and they’d levitate closer as if pulled by some unseen energy and tangle together between the sheets. 

It was here, in their timeless space wedged between dawn and day that Jongho learned the details of Hongjoong. He was given the time to observe the arch of Hongjoong’s back against the mattress when his fingertips brushed the insides of his thighs; to hear his name tumble from Hongjoong’s lips heedlessly like a prayer; to smell the fading sleep on his skin. And these moments were all about Hongjoong. He never asked Jongho to slip down under the covers for him, yet Jongho still trailed down his front to disappear from view like a habit, making his presence known through taking Hongjoong to the hilt until his nails scraped against Jongho’s scalp between soft gasps and quiet moans. 

After, when Hongjoong was sated and mind still abuzz with the remnants of an early-morning orgasm, they laid in comfortable silence, Hongjoong’s fingers tracing along tiny scars and lines of black ink, journeying Jongho’s skin like roads on a map. He asked once, what they stood for, but Jongho’s answer of it symbolising belonging was quickly shut down.

_“I know what gang tattoos symbolise, Jongho,” he said, propping himself onto one elbow to face Jongho straight on, “I’m asking what they mean to you.”_

_They stared at each other then, a long moment where neither a word was said nor a movement made; another one of their tiny infinities detached from the rest of the world. The curtains shivered on a chilly breeze blowing through the open window, but it was Hongjoong’s gaze boring into his own that caused the goosebumps adorning Jongho’s arms._

_“It’s a branding,” he whispered and his voice broke, “a claim to my soul and an eternal vow of ‘until death do us apart’.”_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sky is bleeding out before him. He doesn’t realise it as it happens, but Jongho’s now on the ground, the sharp edges of crushed rock piercing through both the leather and the skin on his knees. He doesn’t care, his thoughts distant and displaced in remembrance of Hongjoong’s once warm embrace growing colder against his will. He does realise, however, how the sun is now inching so close to the sea that the earlier clear curve of it is blurry and wavering, nearing its breaking point where it finally gives in to be swallowed by the dark waves, and Jongho knows he was wrong. 

Time is running out. _They_ are running out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_“I’m getting out of here one of these days,” Hongjoong said one of their last days together, laying upside-down in the couch._

_It was that one day where they did nothing but take residence directly beneath the air condition, the day too hot to even think. Jongho lifted one corner of the wet towel from his face, glancing at Hongjoong before letting the damp cloth fall back into place with an affirmative hum and a mumble resembling ‘too hot still’. Hongjoong shuffled, let his legs fall from their propped up position against the wall, and leaned his head onto Jongho’s knee. Jongho lifted the towel again, this time looking at the way Hongjoong twirled a lollipop between his lips._

_“I mean out of this town, running away.”_

_“Oh,” Jongho responded, removing the towel completely in interest, “where are you gonna go?”_

_Hongjoong grinned. “Who knows? The best plan is no plan.”_

_Jongho scoffed at that. “Are they now?”_

_“Just look at us.”_

_Jongho halted, Hongjoong’s grin growing more mischievous as the lollipop clacked against the back of his teeth. Jongho studied the glint in Hongjoong’s eye for another heartbeat, sat up straighter and dropped the cloth beside him on the couch. _

_“I suppose you’re right,” he smiled, but turned serious again, “but why now?”_

_Hongjoong sucked harder on his lollipop in thought, eyelashes fluttering as he stared into the air. Jongho tried his best not to see how Hongjoong’s lips were stained red by the candy, but curse his mind for always noticing every detail. He thoughts skimmed the range of possible flavours when Hongjoong smacked his lips and spoke up._

_“Well, my dad’s a dick, as you know after sneaking in my window that one time,” he explained with a grimace._

_Jongho grinned sheepishly at the memory, the tip of his ears red with the fresh cringe of remembering how he had thrown pebbles at the glass and scaled a tree to invite himself in like they do in cheesy romance movies, ultimately having to escape in a rush and still half-hard when Hongjoong’s father had come to check up on the noise of Hongjoong’s excessively lewd moan. Old Kim had not been very pleased about his quality time with lesser quality alcohol being disturbed, and Hongjoong had ended up with a shoulder sore to the touch lasting several days. Hongjoong never told Jongho what had happened after he left, but Jongho knew enough about bad parenting to have a hunch what the elusive looks when the topic arose meant. _

_“I just wanna get away, y’know, explore the world, gain experiences and do what I want to do for a change,” Hongjoong muttered, eyes distant as the mood turned serious. “People say that you have your entire life ahead of you, but when I look back there’s nothing to smile about. I’ve been standing still for 22 whole years, allowing time to slip away day by wretched day without even noticing. I want more than all of,” Hongjoong paused, gesturing wildly around him with his lollipop, “this.”_

_Hongjoong huffed out a pout, shoulders slumped in defeat. Jongho understood what he truly meant with ‘this’, but he couldn’t help the sting of pain the lack of elaboration brought with it and the voice in his head telling him he wasn’t good enough to satisfy Hongjoong’s needs for a good life; he already knew he was lacking and undeserving. He instead chose to focus on the reddened bottom lip sticking out, and urged Hongjoong to sit up. _

_Hongjoong complied easily, snaking into Jongho’s lap, heat be damned, and held his face tenderly. Jongho leaned up and captured the plump lip between his teeth, nibbling and tugging on it until he felt Hongjoong’s body untense. Cherry-flavoured._

_“I’d miss you terribly if you left,” he whispered against his lips, sultry in attempt to hide his own uncertainty and fear of being abandoned, thrown aside and left behind. Jongho slid his hands up Hongjoong’s thighs, teasing under the edge of his shorts. A shiver ran through Hongjoong and he swallowed hard, adam's apple jumping beneath Jongho’s lips where they were ghosting his neck._

_Hongjoong chuckled. “But you’d find me,” he breathed out, leaning his forehead against Jongho’s, “you’d always find me.”_

_Hongjoong fumbled with Jongho’s shirt, his fingers getting tangled in the hurry to rid him of it. Jongho returned the action eagerly, his own hands steady in their path as he removed the rest of their clothing and fingered Hongjoong open. He slid home with familiarity, again and again until sweat ran down their temples and their skin glistened, only stopping when Hongjoong squeezed around him harder on a choked moan._

_Jongho rested into Hongjoong’s clavicle and clung tight to his body, both of them panting heavily. Whether it was Jongho’s vulnerability or the post-orgasm haze of his jumbled thoughts speaking up, he did not know._

_“Will I ever see you again?”_

_Hongjoong sat back then, staring deeper into Jongho’s soul than he ever did before, sincerity and truthfulness behind resolute irises glowing hotter than the sun outside. “One year,” he said, “in one year, come to the cliff. If I don’t show up before the sun kisses the sea, know that I made it out.”_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jongho replays Hongjoong’s words in his head as the sun buries itself under the horizon, the last rays glinting on Jongho’s tear-stricken cheeks when his last cigarette tumbles from the tips of his fingers. He takes a deep breath, wipes his face with the back of his hand and gets to his feet. Not bothering to put his helmet on, he squats across his bike and turns the ignition, wasting no time in getting back on the road with a tail of disturbed dust behind him. His entire right upper arm burns despite the cold air rushing past as he speeds down the hill and passes the ‘Welcome back!’ sign on the way out of town. 

The removal is healing, yet Jongho just knows it’s never gonna feel quite right again. It will always be there to remind him of his past whenever he is on the brink of mercy of forgetting. Breaking out of his own cage meant erasing any traces of having belonged there in the first place, even though that means his life is at risk every day for straying from the pack mentality of the members.

But Jongho doesn’t care; he had to leave, and now he has to keep on moving.

Jongho laughs.

He might’ve lost Hongjoong, for now or for eternity; but Hongjoong didn’t lose himself. He knows that wherever Hongjoong is, and whatever he’s doing, he is safe, he’s free, he’s _happy_, and whether that is with or without Jongho makes the difference of a single drop of water in the ocean.

Jongho might never find Hongjoong, or maybe he’ll bump into him by chance one day, Hongjoong twirling another cherry lollipop the same colour as his hair behind a devilish smile. It may take him weeks, months, hell it might as well take a lifetime, but Jongho doesn’t care. He’ll keep looking, keep imagining Hongjoong in the corner of his eye or perk up when he thinks he can hear his laugh around the corner. He’s still gonna _look_ until the sun kisses the sea for the last time.

Jongho awaits the day where he would join Hongjoong on the top of a roof somewhere to be met with a wide grin and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

_“Hey, hot wheels. Caramel popcorn?”_

**Author's Note:**

> yeah this turned out massively bittersweet, but hey, sometimes it doesn't all work out perfectly in the end!
> 
> leave me a lil kudos and maybe a comment if you feel extra generous today, i always get so happy hearing what you think ^3^ and if i forgot any tags, please let me know!
> 
> hit me up on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BazzysAO3?s=09)


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